


That little voice inside your head

by LadyNickname



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Depression, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 03:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20668403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNickname/pseuds/LadyNickname
Summary: War, Famine, Pollution, Pestilence...Demons born of our imagination. Incarnations of very real plagues, tearing humans apart for centuries.There are many more such incarnations.This is a story about one of them.One that works more subtly. One that gets in your head and eats you up from the inside.And, as it were, she was getting ready for a feast.Destroying the demon Crowley would be easy. All she had to do was keep him company, and whisper the right words in his ear.





	That little voice inside your head

**Author's Note:**

> TW :  
Depression, suicidal ideations.
> 
> If you are going through it right now, it might be best not to read.  
Also: you can always reach out to me if you want to talk to a stranger who won't judge you 
> 
> More notes at the end.

War, Famine, Pollution, Pestilence...

Demons born of our imagination. Incarnations of very real plagues, tearing humans apart for centuries.

  


They walk the earth only to spread pain, heartache and destruction, leaving nothing but ash and waste in their wake.

  


There are many more such incarnations.

  


This is a story about one of them.

One that works more subtly. One that gets in your head and eats you up from the inside.

  


And, as it were, she was getting ready for a feast.

  


She had received a rather interesting call from hell. Apparently, her very special set of skills were needed for a lovely little task.

A revenge for killing one of their own and utterly humiliating the devil himself.

  


The target was already susceptible to her brand of sickness. If she gave him her full attention, destroying the demon Crowley would take a few weeks, at worst. All she had to do was keep him company, and whisper the right words in his ear.

  


She had done it to countless humans. Some had died. Some had gotten out of her grasp, eventually. Others she let go for a while, just to seize back later, toying with them like a lazy cat playing with a prey. She was sadistic that way.

  


She had broken more resilient creatures than Crowley. And the little snake was already reeking of insecurities and pain. A perfect canvas to paint her mark on.

  


_ Yes _ , she thought,  _ this will be a piece of cake. _

  


_______________

  
  


Crowley was lounging on his throne, unsure what to do next. Dinner at the Ritz had been more than he had ever dared to hope for in his long existence, and far less than what he wanted. And now that Heaven and Hell were finally giving him and his Angel room to breathe, he couldn't help but daydream about how he would, hypothetically, get Aziraphale to understand what Crowley wanted, even though he knew it would never end in anything other than heartbreak and humiliation.

  


_ Aren't you ungrateful?  _ A little voice in his mind whispered.  _ You said it yourself. Merely sharing the same space is more than you could have hoped for. More than you deserve, really. And you dare think sappy, silly thoughts about him? _

  


Well… he could hardly argue with that. He knew that if Aziraphale got wind of his… affection for him, the Angel would be utterly embarrassed, give him a pitying smile and try to apologise…

  


_ No, you're being too kind to yourself. Embarrassed? Really? He would be absolutely disgusted at the thought of a demon lusting after him, tainting him with his dirty imagination. He wouldn't smile. He wouldn't apologise. He would throw you out and never see you again.  _

  


Well… maybe he wouldn't go that far. Not really. He might be angry, and rightfully so, but they were still friends, Aziraphale still cared about Crowley…

  


_ Friends? Is that so? Didn't he say you weren't friends? Didn't he say he doesn't even like you?  _

  


Well… he didn't really mean that, he was just angry…

  


_ Was he? _

  


Crowley didn't have an answer to that. He'd had his doubts. But he knew the Angel liked him. He could tell as much. Why else would they have spent so much time together? So many lovely dinners, so many drinks, so many walks through the park, fond smiles and sweet laughter?

  


_ For the arrangement, of course. That's basic manipulation. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer". That's all this ever was. He told you so himself. You were never a friend to him. Just an enemy. One to watch closely and use when convenient.  _

_ But he has no use for you anymore. _

_ You should leave him alone. _

  


Maybe so. But Crowley didn't want to leave him alone. What would be the point of saving the world if he had to leave Aziraphale alone?

  


_ Ah there. See. This is exactly why you need to leave him alone. You didn't save the world out of the kindness of your black little heart. You never cared for the humans. You're just another self-serving demon, ready to do anything to get what he wants. _

  


That's not true. Crowley knew that wasn't true. In this most desperate moments, he had tried to plead with God, asking her why she had to test humans to destruction.

  


_ In your most pathetic moments, you mean. You can pretend all you want that you were trying to plead for them. You and I both know the truth. It was nothing but a ridiculous cry for attention. You just figured that maybe God would listen to the miraculously empathetic demon. The one and only to still care about her creation. You wanted to be special. You wanted to be seen by Her again. Stop deluding yourself. You never meant to help anyone but yourself. After all, you were never good. Not even as an angel. _

  


That last point… was hard to disprove. He had been a sorry excuse for an angel. Otherwise, he wouldn't have fallen.

  


_ Oh yes. And you still have singed wings and disgusting eyes to remind you everyday of how unworthy you were of Her grace. And still, you tried to plead with her, pretending to care about humanity just to have her look your way again. No wonder she stayed silent. _

  


No… it wasn't like that. Crowley did care about the humans… he did… he had been devastated when the flood happened. He really didn't want to renew the experience.

  


_ Ah. So it really was about yourself after all. Poor Crowley doesn't want to be sad again, boohoo. It was not about human suffering at all. Just about saving yourself some grief. And really, should you brag about being sad about the flood? As if that makes you any better. It only means that you suck at your job. You were a bad angel once, and you're a worse demon now. You can't do anything right. Even being evil is too damn complicated for you. You don't belong in heaven, and you don't belong in hell. There is no place for you. You're an abomination. A mistake. _

  


Crowley really did not like that train of thought. Not at all. He needed a distraction. Maybe a surprise visit to the bookshop could do him some good. Seeing Aziraphale always did cheer him up.

  


_ Always? Really? Even when he refuses to help you? Call your relationship "fraternizing", as if it meant nothing more than that? Even when he refuses to give you what you need to survive? When he refuses to come with you to Alpha Centauri? When he reminds you at every turn that you're nothing but a demon, a "foul friend"? When he refuses to call you his friend? _

  


Well… yeah… that had hurt. A lot. But they were closer now than they had been before. Surely, today wouldn't be one of these days.

  


_ But why do you assume he'd want to see you at all? _

  


Well. You never know until you try.

  


_______________

  


Crowley sauntered nonchalantly into the bookshop, ready to have a lovely conversation with Aziraphale to drown out the sound of his thoughts. Yes, talking about a million little things, laughing and drinking would surely cover the insidious whispers in his mind. He would have a lovely time, and banish his dark thoughts once and for all.

  


And Aziraphale, the lovely angel, seemed to beam upon spotting him. A radiant smile lit up his features as he said Crowley's name in a contented sigh.

  


But soon enough, a frown replaced that gorgeous expression, and the angel spoke:

  


"I'm quite sorry, dear boy, but I'm afraid I do not have time for a social call today. You see, since Adam made a few additions after restoring the bookshop, I really am quite busy with the inventory. Could you come by later this week? I will give you a call."

  


Crowley felt a little deflated, but still made sure to look and sound as casual and detached as inhumanely possible as he gave his answer.

  


"Yeah, sure. Take your time. See you in a bit, Angel."

  


And with that, he strode off, sat into the Bentley and let out a loud string of blessings.

  


_ See?  _ A little voice in his mind whispered,  _ I told you he wouldn't want to see you. _

  


It's not like that, Crowley thought. Aziraphale just like his books, that's all.

It sounded weak, even to him.

  


_ Oh yes. He likes them way more than he likes you. _

  


_ _____________ _

  
  


It had only been a few days. A few days and he already felt like he was going mad, slowly losing everything that he was until there was nothing but that little voice.

It was not so little anymore, though, was it? Gone were the small whispers. The voice had grown louder with each passing hours, spewing endless insults and ugly truths until the landscape of his thoughts was consumed by an ugly, muddy river. And he was drowning in it.

  


His mind had become a prison he could not break out of.

  


He had tried. He had tried so many things. Drowning out the sound with his favorite TV shows, watching the Golden Girls for hours on end. Going out in the sun, away from the apartment in which he felt like a mere ghost, haunting the place. Going to the movies. Getting black out drunk.

  


And still, the voice spoke in his head.

  


_ You're nothing.  _

  


_ You've never been anything.  _

  


_ No one worth keeping. God hasn't kept you. Hell hasn't kept you. You're not worth anything to anyone. _

  


_ You're nothing. _

  


_ You're nothing good. You've never really been able to do any good for anyone. You've never helped anyone. And whenever you tried to, you managed to do was get your Angel in trouble by associating with the likes of you. _

  


_ You're nothing. _

  


_ You're nothing bad. You've neve been able to do anything truly evil. Just minor inconveniences that always blew back in your face. All you ever did was take credit for works that weren't your own. The plague. The Spanish Inquisition. World War II. _

  


_ You're a liar. _

_ You're a fraud. _

_ The person you pretend to be doesn't exist. _

  


_ You're nothing. _

_ You don't exist. _

_ I'm the only thing that's real. _

  


It was a never-ending chorus of obliteration. And Crowley  _ had _ tried. He had spent hours trying to prove himself wrong. He wasn't nothing. He had done things. He had created the stars. If he really was nothing, he wouldn't have been able to create. He had helped avert the Apocalypse… though he hadn't done much there. And everything he tried to do was a failure…

  


He had… he…

  


He couldn't remember anymore. He had made his points in the past days. So many points. He had argued as vehemently as he could. But nothing worked. Nothing stopped the flood of venom from leaking into his brain.

  


Nothing could stop those thoughts.

  


He had tried.

He had done his best.

But nothing worked.

And he wanted it to stop.

  


He wanted it to stop.

  


He thought about calling Aziraphale… but… the angel had made it clear that he needed some time and space. Surely, he wouldn't want to see Crowley now, otherwise, he would have called, as promised…

  


_ But he will never call. Why would he? It's not about not wanting to see you  _ ** _right now_ ** _ . It's about not wanting to see you ever again. How could he not, after you got him into so much trouble with heaven? They tried to kill him because of you. He could have died. Because of you. _

_ You and your sick, twisted influence on him. Pushing him to question. Pushing him to rebel. Are you  _ ** _trying_ ** _ to make him fall? Because it will happen, eventually, if you keep seeing him. You'll taint him with your impure filth. Like a contagious disease. That's what you are to him. _

_ He would be better off without you. _

_ Everyone would be better off without you. _

  


Maybe… maybe so. He wouldn't call Aziraphale then. He wouldn't go out. He just… Crowley needed to sleep. Sleep would bring peace and quiet. Most importantly quiet. He could use some of that. His mind would be silent for a while. It would help.

  


______________

  


Crowley woke up when the phone rang. He got out of bed and came near the desk, watching the phone. Undecided. It could only be Aziraphale. He should pick up, really. He wouldn't want to make him wait or feel sad. He cared about the angel so much…

  


He cared about the angel too much to pick up.

  


_ He's better off without you. Picking up wouldn't do him any good. You know he's only calling out of politeness, anyway. Because he said he would. _

_ I bet he hopes you won't pick up. _

_ Why don't you make his hopes come true, for once? _

_ Why can't you make him happy and just disappear? _

  


It was tempting. Maybe he could just leave. Go far away, to another Continent, where Aziraphale wouldn't find him. Somewhere warm, where he could lay in the sun for hours, sleepy and content.

  


_ Content? You really think you deserve to be content? After all you've done to him? Are you really that self-centered? _

  


Crowley was starting to panic. There was nothing he could say to that. Nothing he hadn't tried.

  


There was nothing he could do anymore. Nothing at all. He felt so lost and so tired. He had just woken up and he was already exhausted. He couldn't keep fighting his own mind. He was constantly losing anyway. 

  


A few more days passed. He slept. He drank a tonne of alcohol. He screamed to try to silence the voice in his head. He banged his head against the wall to make it shut up. He slept again. He ignored the ringing phone. Rinse and repeat.

  


The only thing that changed was his quickly growing obsession with holy water.

  


At first, he was glad he didn't have any at hand. He had used his, and that was a good thing. It was. It really was.

  


Except it didn't feel like a good thing. Not anymore.

  


So he went back to the sixties. A scheme to break into a church and steal some holy water. It would be easy enough. Except Aziraphale would probably hear about it. And it would talked some planning, talking to people, organization. He didn't have the energy for that.

  


_ You could always just walk into a church and put your head directly in holy water. That would be quick and efficient. _

  


Ah. Yes. It would be. It was a good idea.

No, wait. It wasn't. He didn't want to do that. He really didn't. Did he?

  


He spent a long while trying to answer that question.

  


______________

  


Aziraphale was worried. 

The first time he called, he had assumed Crowley simply wasn't home. Surely, the dear boy must have gone out to do some mischief he was so fond of. 

But he had never returned his call.

  


On the second day, he grew a tad antsy. He had tried calling several times. There was no response. He tried to tell himself that hell had not taken Crowley back. He would know, wouldn't he? No, Crowley was safe and sound, probably having one of these long naps he was so fond of. That had to be it.

  


He tried not to call on the third day. He really did. But he couldn't help himself.

  


He kept calling every day. Sometimes several times. Until he resolved that, if, within a week of his first call, he still had no news from Crowley, he would barge in his flat and teach the Demon some manners. How rude, not to pick up the telephone when one's friend kept calling!

  


On the fifth day, Aziraphale's phone finally rang. His chest filled up with blazing hope as he picked up. Only to be disappointed when he head Adam's voice on the end of the line.

  


"Hi, Aziraphale."

"Oh. It's you."

"Well… yeah. That's not very nice."

"Oh, yes, I'm very sorry dear chap, I was expecting a call from Crowley."

"Funny, that's what I called you about. I'm with Anathema and she said something about Astronomy…"

"Astrology!" Anathema's voice cut it.

"Right" Adam Answered. "So, anyway, she was looking at the stars and she said there was something wrong with Crowley."

"Oh dear! There is? Oh no. Is that why I haven't heard from him? I'm so dreadfully worried…"

As Aziraphale was getting carried away and quite obviously at the beginning of a long rant about how sick with concern he had been over Crowley's very rude attitude, Anathema grabbed the phone.

"Right, I understand, but there's no time for that now. You have to listen. I saw impending doom in the sky. It was crashing on a snake. When I told Adam about it, he said he could sense Depression. At first I figured he just needed counseling. But Adam meant the actual entity. Like War or Famine."

"Ah, right. I see now. So Depression… and what do they want? Is he going to become even sulkier? Because I would not appreciate that kind of conduct anymore…"

"Aziraphale, I understand you're upset about getting ignored but can you get over yourself for one minute and listen? She's killing him. Slowly but surely. I looked into my crystal ball this morning and it was not good. All I know is that he's going to a church this afternoon. Any idea why?"

Aziraphale was very quiet for a second.

His answer came quickly:

"Which church? How much time do I have?"

  
  


_______________

  


The church was almost empty. Except for one line figure sitting on a pew, feet carefully off the floor.

  


His arms were wrapped against his knees and he kept rocking back and forth, trying to soothe himself. 

  


His hair was disheveled and dirty, his clothes wrinkled and unkempt.

  


Aziraphale looked at him from afar, too shocked to truly comprehend how Crowley could have deteriorated to such a state so quickly.

  


He took a few, silent steps forward, until he could hear soft, endless muttering, like arguing. 

  


As he grew closer, he could start making out some of the words.

"Not a good idea…" 

"Would be quick though. More than what I deserve."

"Quiet! I need you to shut up please! Please!"

"What if it's not holy enough? What if I don't die?"

  


Crowley flinched when a hand landed soflty on his shoulder. He looked up into Aziraphale's eyes, and sneered.

  


"Aziraphale. Pleasure to see you. Come to laugh at me, have you?"

"What? No!"

"Come to say good riddance and see me off?"

"No! I…"

  


_ "Just say what you believe" _ Adam's words echoed through Aziraphale's mind.

  


He knelt down until he was eye level with Crowley, and took his face gently in his hands.

  


"I believe that you are kind."

"I'm not! I'm a demon, I…"

But Aziraphale didn't let him finish. When it came to saying things like that, he resolved to never let him finish again.

"I believe you are good."

"I believe you are beautiful."

"I believe you are funny."

"I believe you are smart."

"I believe you are witty."

  


On and on he went, telling Crowley all the little things he loved about him. He didn't know when exactly Crowley had started crying. He didn't know when he had stopped sobbing and screaming "it's not true."

He didn't know when he had started punctuating every declaration with a kiss.

And he didn't know what part of his last sentence worked. He was just so relieved that it did.

  


"I believe you are strong, my love, much stronger than her."

  


A black ooze came seeping out of Crowley's ear, running down the floor, until it took the shape of a rather large, dark slug.

  


Crowley was too stunned to look down at it.

"Did you just say… my love?"

"I believe I did, yes. Now, just give me a moment and we will go back to this conversation."

  


Without further decorum, Aziraphale picked up the slug, which was trying to crawl away, and threw it in the holy water. 

  


Blue flames appeared as the slug screeched and screamed in it's demonic voice. Until there was silence.

  


"What the hell was that? Was that thing in my head?"

"Apparently, my dear. Sent by hell to destroy you. And it nearly did."

"Huh. Fancy that… so err… about the love thing?"

"Yes?"

"Did you mean that? Or was I just to make sure I didn't off myself?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"How can you joke about that? Do you have any idea how worried I was? And what if you had really done it? What would have happened to me then?"

"Eeeh… I mean you'd probably be fine. You'd still have books and food and…"

Crowley had rarely seen Aziraphale angry. But as he cut him off, he appeared to be furious.

"Books and food? Don't be ridiculous! Crowley! I would have followed you. Do you not understand?"

  


He didn't. He couldn't. It didn't make any sense. Aziraphale was better off without him, right? Even if it had been that thing saying it, it still kinda made sense… didn't it?

  


Seeing his confused expression, Aziraphale decided that for once, actions spoke louder than words.

  


He firmly planted a kiss on Crowley's numb lips, effectively surprising him out of his confusion.

  


"Well… that was… unexpected." Crowley said.

"Was it? Because I thought the way I feel about you was fairly obvious, my dear boy."

"Not obvious enough, apparently."

"Do you really need me to spell it out? Fine. I love you. Happy?"

Crowley was genuinely stunned.

"Yeah. Apparently. I'm actually happy. I can't believe how good that feels… Angel… I didn't think I'd get to feel that ever again."

  


Hearing this was overwhelming. Luckily for Aziraphale, his heart was quicker than his mind, and he soon find himself wrapping his demon in his embrace, telling him over and over again how much he loved him, and how he never, ever wanted to lose him.

  


____________

  


It took a while for Crowley to emerge from the fog of his exhaustion and numbness. He spent days lounging in the bookshop, being cuddled and kissed back to health.

Until one day, he felt wanted and confident enough to reciprocate.

  


To finally wrap his own arms around Aziraphale and tell him how much he loved him. How he had always longed for him. How he'd do anything to make him smile.

  


And that day, Aziraphale did nothing but smile tenderly at Crowley, eyes watery with deep emotion and barely repressed tears of joy, while they kissed, cuddled and, after a while, made love.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Yes, I know, depression is not that easily cured. Would be nice if it were, but since I decided to make the distinction between Depression (the entity) and depression...
> 
> Well, killing war in the show hasn't solved wars... Killing depression here won't achieve that either. 
> 
> I also know that not all depression takes this form, but I based it on my own experience.
> 
> If you're going through anything like this, please, talk to a professional about it.  
It can help so much.
> 
> Take care of yourselves!


End file.
